Eye for an Eye

by Dwayne S. Joseph

Question after question after question.

  I wanted to fuck on the balcony amid the warm, humid, sticky nighttime air to escape the unanswered questions momentarily. I wanted to cum in waves as New York City applauded with its unending activity on the streets below. But tonight, no matter how tightly I closed my walls around Ryan’s shaft, there was no escape.

  I pushed off of Ryan’s chest, sat straight up, arched my back, and looked up to the dark, starless sky. I tried to focus, tried to run away from the questions, but yet again, they kept up with me stroke for stroke.

  It was frustrating.

  Ryan thrust himself up into me. He palmed my breasts. Sat up and took them into his mouth. Ran his tongue over and around my nipples.

  This was supposed to feel so fucking good.

  I tried again to focus. Tried again to put my mind where my body was. But I couldn’t. Someone knew. And that was fucking with me.

  Ryan released my breasts and leaned back into the chaise we brought out onto the balcony. I looked down at him. His jaw was tight, his nostrils flared. I bore down with my hips. Closed my walls tighter.

  Ryan said, “Fuck!”

  One or two more pushes down with my hips and he was going to bust his nut and his condom would be full, while I never even got close.

  I climbed off of him, went to the balcony’s rail, leaned on it and looked down to the city streets.

  Behind me, Ryan said, “What the . . . ? Lisette . . . What’s wrong?”

  I said, “Nothing.”

  “So why’d you stop?” His tone was raw. He’d been so close.

  “You were about to cum.”

  “Yeah?”

  I turned and looked at him. “I wasn’t.”

  Shock and disbelief flashed in his eyes for a moment. He hadn’t expected that response. Every woman came when he was inside of them. That’s what the expression on his face said. How the hell could I not have already or at least been close to it?

  He nodded and said, “I see.” He rose from the chaise and went into the room. He came back seconds later, his condom removed. His expression was cocksure again, as though he’d been unfazed by not being able to get off.

  I turned my back to him and looked out into the nighttime, my eyes searching for a person I couldn’t find, but had to.

  Ryan stepped behind me and kissed the back of my neck. “You are addictive,” he said.

  I said, “Is that right?”

  Another kiss on my neck. “Definitely.”

  I gave him a “Hmmm,” but said nothing more.

  “I’d love to see you more.”

  “I don’t think your wife would like that.”

  Ryan scoffed. “My wife,” he said. “That’s a joke.”

  “You chose her.”

  Ryan let out a frustrated exhale, moved to the balcony, and leaned on the rail beside me. “She says that she wants to fix things between us. She says she knows she’s been the cause for the distance between us. She’s been talking about looking into pills to increase her libido. And if that doesn’t work, then seeing a doctor about it.”

  “Sounds like she doesn’t want to lose you.”

  Ryan shook his head. “It’s too fucking late for that.”

  I raised an eyebrow. He was good. Completely convincing. I could see how the average woman who didn’t know his real story could fall for the bullshit.

  “I have a business meeting in Virginia next week,” he said. “Virginia Beach. A four-day meeting. I was going to ask you to come, but my wife . . . she invited herself.”

  I hmmed. “Maybe Virginia Beach will be the remedy. You can fuck her on the beach.”

  Ryan turned and looked at me. “I want to fuck you on the beach.”

  “Pretend your wife is me.”

  “There’s no substitute for the real thing.”

  I shrugged. “Well . . . I won’t be at the beach, so you better figure something out.” I walked away from him, went into the suite, and grabbed my clothes.

  Ryan followed me inside. “You’re leaving?”

  “Have things to do,” I said, slipping on my thong and bra.

  “Are you sure I can’t have your number?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Ryan frowned. “I want to see you when I get back.”

  I slipped on my blouse and jeans. “Maybe.”

  “Is that a maybe that will become a no again?”

  “It’s a maybe,” I said.

  Ryan nodded. “Call me next Friday, then.”

  I slipped on my pumps and grabbed my purse from the chair. I looked at him. Even limp, he was impressive. I said, “Better get rid of the rest of those scabs before Virginia Beach.”

  Ryan looked down at his chest and shrugged. “Maybe I’ll just leave them there for her to find.”

  My turn to shrug. “Have fun in Virginia.”

  I turned and headed to the door. As I opened it, Ryan said, “Next Friday, Lisette, call me. We can go out for dinner again.”

  “Friday’s a bad night for me.”

  “How about Saturday?”

  I waited for a moment before I answered. Let him believe I was really giving it some thought. “Saturday might work.”

  “OK, so, dinner?”

  “Maybe,” I said, and then walked out.

  Next Saturday. He would definitely see me. And then he’d regret ever laying his eyes on me.

  32

  Aida was fucking up and she knew it.

  She was losing her focus, getting caught up physically and emotionally. For the past few days she’d been talking to herself. Telling herself to get a grip, to remain centered. She had a job to do. Set Griffin up, collect her pay, and move on to the next ungrateful bastard she’d be paid to ruin. It was a simple equation.

  Unhappy wife + bastard of a husband = mucho dinero.

  All she had to do was stay in tunnel-vision mode and keep walking with her blinders on.

  Griffin was just like the other men she’d fucked over. He was a liar, a cheat. So what if he was sexy as sin, with his wide upper torso, his well-developed arms and chest, a washboard stomach, and a damn near perfect dick? And so what if he knew how to use it in ways that gave her the chills? So what if his macho and arrogant personality was a complete turn-on for her? So what if she loved his style? So what if his eyes and sly smile gleamed with a hint of danger that she couldn’t get enough of? So what if she found herself thinking about him and wondering what he was doing at that moment when she did? And so what if she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d thought of being with her while he was with his wife? Or if he’d fucked his wife with her on his brain?

  None of those questions and thoughts mattered. All that mattered was that Griffin was a disrespectful son-of-a-bitch who deserved what he had coming to him. Damn the great sex and the chemistry that seemed to exist between them.

  All week long that’s what Aida had said to herself.

  All week long she’d insisted that the calls she’d made to him had been for the job. For the setup. For the big payday.

  And all week long she’d known that had been utter and complete bullshit.

  Aida was falling. Hell–she had fallen for Griffin Steele, and she didn’t quite know how to handle it.

  She needed to talk to someone, but there was no one. If she told Marlene, she was sure she’d be pulled off of the job, and she didn’t want that. She damn sure couldn’t confide in Lisette, because she had no doubt she’d lose not only the best money she’d ever make, but she’d also lose the only person who knew and understood just who she was. Someone she considered family. For that reason, there was only one option: She would have to figure this out on her own. She didn’t know how, but one way or another, she would.

  At least she hoped.

  Aida sighed as she caressed Griffin’s well-defined chest. They were in the back seat of his Escalade again. She’d just orgasmed sitting on top of him. He’d just finished bucking and releasing into his condom inside of her.

  “What’s wr
ong, sexy?” Griffin asked, his index finger trailing along the side of her breast.

  Aida shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  “How do you know?”

  Griffin lifted the corner of his mouth into a sly smirk. “I can tell by your eyes.”

  “You know me so well, huh?”

  Griffin gave her a bad-boy smile and said, “I’m willing to bet I know you better than most.”

  Aida held his gaze momentarily and then looked through the tinted window as someone walked by, heading to his car, oblivious to their presence. She didn’t know why, but she felt as though there’d been something more to his comment.

  Griffin smiled again. “So tell me, sexy, what was up with the sigh?”

  Aida shook her head and dropped the corners of her mouth. “Nothing really.”

  “Mami,” Griffin said in a don’t-even-try-it tone.

  Aida looked at him for another lingering second. Somewhere, Vivian Steele was anxiously waiting for this coming Saturday to arrive. Vivian Steele; she was completely not his type. Unambitious, dependent, soft, attractive yet unassuming at the same time, looked like she didn’t enjoy having sex. She was no challenge, which was obviously why the hell Griffin was unfaithful.

  Aida couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he’d seen in her. He hadn’t married her for her money. He hadn’t married her for her power or status. So what the hell had he married her for? What brujeria (witchcraft) had she performed to snatch him up? She wanted to ask him why her, but of course, she couldn’t.

  She said, “I was just wondering how a man like you isn’t taken already.” She watched him intently, wanting to see if her question put him on edge at all.

  Griffin never batted an eyelash or took a pause as he answered, “No one has ever had enough strength to take me.”

  Aida nodded. “I see.”

  Griffin flashed a devious smile again. “But, mami, I have to be real . . . You are one strong-ass woman.”

  Bumps rose along Aida’s arms. She nodded again and tried to contain her smile. “Is that right?”

  Griffin cupped his hand behind her head and pulled her toward him. His lips centimeters away from hers, he said, “That’s definitely the case,” and then pulled her lips to his. He kissed her hard, drove his tongue into her mouth, which she’d eagerly opened to allow entrance.

  Aida moaned.

  So what? she thought. So what if his kiss is as smooth and hot as he is? She pulled back. “You’re a strong man yourself,” she said.

  Griffin flashed his sexy smile again. “I try to hit the gym on a regular basis.”

  Aida laughed.

  Griffin did too, then said, “I like you, Aida.”

  “That’s good to know. For a minute I was wondering if it was only my tits and ass you liked.”

  Griffin cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, without question, I definitely like the tits and ass, but I also like the personality to go along with them.”

  Aida blushed.

  “I feel a real connection with you,” he continued. “You get me in a way that no one else has ever gotten me.”

  Aida said, “You get me too. And there’s only ever been one other person who has.”

  “I hope he’s a distant memory.”

  “She. And she’s a very good friend of mine.”

  “Well, hopefully I get to meet her someday.”

  Aida smiled. “You never know.”

  Griffin kissed her deeply again for a few seconds. This time he pulled back. “What are you doing this Saturday?”

  Aida looked at him. She knew why he was asking. Vivian had set the trap and told him about her going away to visit the sister-in-law he couldn’t tolerate. As she knew he would, he’d said he couldn’t go, leaving him the opportunity to be alone for the weekend. She’d been hired for this weekend and it bothered her slightly, because it was a reminder that she was on the job to help Vivian save her marriage, because she couldn’t be without him.

  She said, “I have no plans yet. Why?”

  “I have to go away for a few days for business. I’ll be back early Saturday morning. If you don’t mind keeping that night free, I’d like to take you out to dinner.”

  Aida kept her lips tight for a moment.

  The time had come.

  She said, “We can do dinner, but I want a home-cooked meal.”

  Griffin looked at her with a curious stare. “Home-cooked?”

  “Yes. I want you to cook me a fancy dinner. An authentic Puerto Rican meal.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Aida nodded. “Very.”

  “What if I can’t cook?”

  “Something tells me you have skills in the kitchen, too.”

  Griffin laughed. “I might have some skills.”

  “Then it’s set. I’ll come over around eight-thirty.”

  Griffin shook his head. “Any particular meal in mind?”

  Aida shrugged. “Surprise me.”

  “Damn. Guess I better break out the cookbook.”

  “Guess you better.”

  “And you’re sure you don’t want this authentic meal at an authentic Puerto Rican restaurant? Because I know of some good ones.”

  Aida shook her head. “No restaurant. I want my authenticity from el restaurante de Griffin.”

  Griffin laughed. “I really love that Spanish shit.”

  Aida gave him a smile laced with seduction. “You cook me that meal and you’ll hear a lot of Spanish shit for dessert.”

  Griffin clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. As he did, his manhood jumped.

  Aida looked down at it and licked her lips. “Looks like someone likes the sound of that.”

  Griffin clenched his jaws again. “He and I both.”

  “Hmmmm.”

  “You up for round two?” he asked.

  Aida smiled. “The real question is . . . could you hang for a round three?”

  Griffin nodded. “I have four more condoms in my pack.”

  Aida growled. “Aye, papi.”

  Seconds later round two began, and as it did, one word ran through Aida’s mind.

  Trouble.

  She was in for it and she didn’t want to do a damn thing to stop it from coming.

  33

  It’s almost time!

  My day of retribution. My day of payback.

  Oh, so soon, slut. So soon you’re going to get everything you deserve and more.

  I take a breath and hold it in. I savor it. Pretend it’s her last fucking breath. I can’t wait until that moment comes. I can’t wait until I watch it escape from her lungs and her eyes close for good.

  Bitch. I have you so rattled, I love it. Ms. “I am God’s gift to the fucking world.”

  Bitch! Whore! Cunt! Coward!

  Waiting is so frustrating. So goddamned painful. But it’s oh-so-necessary. I can’t wait to see the look on your face when your glass bubble shatters. I can’t wait to look at you eye to eye and tell you all about how I planned everything out. Your death won’t bring my Kyra back to me, but I’m still going to enjoy every second of the agony you’re going to endure.

  I look to my right. That prick Myles is mumbling again. I’d taken him as he walked to his car after leaving Starbucks. He’d been preoccupied, fishing for something in his laptop case. He’d never even seen or heard me coming up behind him. I tasered his ass, and after he crumbled to the ground like a wet rag doll, I dragged him to my car, duct taped his wrists and ankles, and managed to get him into the back seat of my car before I went to watch that bitch get her surprise visit.

  It’s his time.

  “Not yet,” I say. “I have to stick to the plan.”

  It’s his fucking time!

  I shake my head, but don’t speak this time. Then I leave the bathroom and head into the bedroom, where I have Myles laying face up on a bed, rope tied around his wrists and ankles and fastened to the bed’s four posts.

  I walk up to him and look down at him as h
e looks up at me. His eyes are red and wide with fear. “You want to know who the hell I am, don’t you? You want to know why you’re here?”

  He mumbles something that sounds like a yes.

  I stare at him and scowl. “I don’t know how the hell she put up with you,” I say. I sit on the bed beside him. “I couldn’t have done it. I wouldn’t have been able to stomach being next to you.”

  I spit on him.

  “You’re a fucking pussy,” I say.

  He squirms and mumbles again through the duct tape fastened over his mouth.

  I lean down toward him a little. “What was that?”

  He mumbles again.

  “I can’t understand what you’re trying to say. You’ll have to speak a little clearer.” I laugh and then lean toward him more and grab the corner of the tape. “Will this help? Do you want me to take this off?” I tug on the tape.

  He nods and says something that sounds like please.

  I remove a razor from my pocket. I hold it up for him to see as I unfold it. His eyes grow wider. His fright makes me smile. It makes me think of the fear I’m going to see in Lisette’s eyes.

  I press the tip of the blade hard against his cheek and drag it down at an angle. He moans as I watch his blood rise up from the two-inch line I’ve traced.

  “I’ll take it off,” I say. “But if I even think the sound of your voice is too loud, I’ll cut your tongue out and feed it to you. Do you understand?”

  He nods slowly as his eyes tear up.

  I smile again. “Good boy.”

  I pull on the tape. Slowly. I want patches of his moustache and goatee to come off on the other side of the tape.

  “Now, remember,” I say, pressing the blade against the corner of his mouth, “watch that volume.”

  Myles looks down at the blade and then at me. “Wh . . . who are you?” he asks, his voice low and trembling. “Why are you doing this?”

  I glare at him. Fear has his forehead covered with beads of sweat. Fear has him taking short, quick breaths.

  “Why am I doing this?”

  He nods. “Y . . . yes. Why? I don’t know you.”

  “Oh, that’s not true, Myles. You do know me.”

  He shakes his head. “No. We’ve never met.”

  “You know me, you pussy,” I insist again.

  He shakes his head.